DeadLine
by Candra 'wolfgal97
Summary: Still, he managed to conger a smile, if only for Connor. Connor managed to smile back, but Murphy could see his heart wasn't into it. "It's fine," Murphy mouthed to his twin before he heard the metal door open. A hand gripped his arm a little too tightly for his taste but that smiled stayed in place for Connor as he turned his back to his brother and was lead away.
1. Justice is Broken

_A/N: This story is sort of a crossover but not really. I don't know how many of you have ever seen the trailer to Norman Reedus' "Dead*Line", but if you haven't I highly suggest that you do. If you don't want to, the basic storyline is about Seth's (Reedus) stay in prison when he was wrongfully arrested and the aftermath of his experience. This will be a three chapter story._

_Warnings: This story is violent and will hurt your feels. Mentions character death (Not the twins). Continue at your own peril._

* * *

**Dead*Line**

**_Justice is Broken_**

Their stay at the Hoag Maximum Security Prison hadn't been all that bad until the day the day everything changed.

Murphy and Connor were lounging in their cell together, the twins enjoying the silence of each other's company. Their bodies were still a little tender from their healing bullet wounds they'd gotten a month ago from that last firefight that had claimed their father's and Romeo's life. However, knowing that they still had each other was a comfort that they knew they were blessed to have.

As they healed and lived at the prison, they'd learned that if you participated with the counseling program that they removed years from your sentence for it. Good behavior and volunteer work also went towards your credit. And though they had too many years on their sentences for the credits to even make a dent, it kept them busy and allowed them to make friends with most of the guards, who had for the most part been sympathetic to the Saint name.

The only thing that they disliked about the therapy sessions was that it was the only time they were forced to separate. Though the twins liked most of the guards, they always felt uneasy when they weren't together. The Hoag may have people who supported their mission, but it was also full of people who would gladly kill either brother if the opportunity arose.

Murphy chewed on his thumb nail as he waited for the friendly guard, Lark. Both he and Connor found him to be a good man who happened to be sympathetic to the Saint cause, one of many at the prison. It was guards like Lark that allowed the twins to be together. Guards like Lark looked after them, keeping them safe from the other prisoners who were out for the blood of Saints.

"How long on yah gonna be talkin' ta the doc today, Murph?" Connor asked as he flipped through the Bible.

Murphy shrugged. "Not too long, I don't think. Should be an hour or so."

Connor nodded as he heard footsteps coming from down the hall, signaling that Lark was coming. "I think that's your cue, Murph."

Murphy sat up and stood by the barred door as he waited for Lark's friendly, smiling face. That wasn't what he was greeted with.

Instead, it was another guard. One they'd seen before but had never talked to. For some reason, this man didn't sit well with Connor. He had an open expression on his face, a small smile upturning his lips. But the smile didn't reach his dark eyes.

"Excuse me, sir," Connor started, "But where's officer Lark?"

The unfamiliar guard turned his gaze towards the fairer twin. "Officer Lark has taken vacation for the next few weeks. I've been assigned to take his place," he replied politely. "My name is Officer Blake, and I'll be the one escorting you to your sessions from now on."

Murphy tried not to frown. He'd grown to like Lark, but this new man, he didn't know where he and Connor stood with him. Still, it wasn't like he could refuse. Instead, he cast a glance towards Connor, who he could see was feeling the same way, before offering his wrists to the new officer.

"Turn around, please," Blake commanded. Now Murphy couldn't keep the frown from his face. He didn't like this. Lark had always cuffed his hands in front of him, and only doing so because that was regulation. Still, Murphy knew he had to do as told by those in charge here.

He did as asked and moved to the bars before turning around to face Connor. He saw the clouded look in his twin's matching eyes, a look of unease as the cool metal of cuffs clicked tighter around his wrists than Lark had ever done. Still, he managed to conger a smile, if only for Connor.

Connor managed to smile back, but Murphy could see his heart wasn't into it._ "It's fine," _Murphy mouthed to his twin before he heard the metal door open. A hand gripped his arm a little too tightly for his taste but that smiled stayed in place for Connor as he turned his back to his brother and was lead by a stranger into the halls of the Hoag.

Murphy didn't say anything as Blake lead him down the long corridor. It was yet again a striking difference from Lark, who would've been making friendly conversation by now. Instead, the silence trailed after the two people as Murphy was lead to his session.

However, after a few minutes, Murphy realized that they were going in wrong direction. They'd taken a right too early in the journey, sending them towards a different part of the prison.

"Officer Blake," Murphy started, unsure of whether he should be speaking or not, "we're goin' the wrong way."

Behind him, Blake let out a dark laugh that made Murphy's skin crawl. "I know. We're taking a detour today."

Murphy didn't like the sound of that. He had to admit, he was very creeped out. Still, he remained quiet as he was pushed forward into an unfamiliar hall, once again hating the feeling of having his hands restrained behind his back.

Murphy slowed his pace, trying to take in the surroundings. He noticed here that the doors were not barred, but made of solid metal. It was then that Murphy realized that this was the old solitary confinement that had been shut down two weeks ago when solitary had been moved somewhere else in the prison.

"What's goin' on?" Murphy asked, growing very uneasy with the situation. He was getting a very bad feeling.

A sharp smack to the back of the head let Murphy know that something was very wrong. "Hey!" Murphy tried to defend himself verbally, as physically wasn't an option.

"Shut up!" Blake snarled at the Saint, jerking harshly on Murphy's arm. Murphy tried to resist as Blake pulled him further down the dark hall to one of the cells. He dug his heels into the ground, trying desperately to get away from this man, consequence from prison officials the last thing on his mind. All he knew was that something bad would happen if Blake managed to get him into one of those cells and Murphy didn't want to find out what.

A quick shot to the ribs screwed that plan over for Murphy. He hadn't prepared for the blow and it sent him doubled over in pain, allowing Blake to shove him into the dark little cell that would change him forever.

Blake pulled Murphy into the small cell, shoving the younger man to the ground. Murphy struggled to get free of him, but without the use of his hands, he was defenseless as Blake laid on top him, trapping him face down on the floor.

Murphy tried to buck Blake off, but the man would only wedge his boney elbow into the curve of Murphy's spine, holding him in place while he trapped Murphy's right arm under his body. He released Murphy's left hand long enough to cuff it to a grate in the floor of the cell.

Secured to the ground, Murphy was completely helpless. He glared up at the man who'd dragged him down here, a defiant gleam in his eye. He would never in a million years admit to how terrified he was. Murphy had no idea what was going to happen, but he had a bad feeling is wasn't going to be pleasant on his end of things.

Murphy's blue eyes watched Blake catch his breath as he stared down his captive. A small smile formed on the man's face, raising the hair on the back of Murphy's neck. "I suppose you know why you're here," Blake said pointedly.

"Because you brought me here. Now let me go!" Murphy snapped, his fiery nature forcing him to fight back in any way he could.

A chill trailed down his spine at the sound of Blake's dark chuckle. "Yes, that's true I suppose. But really, Murphy. You're here to be saved."

Murphy blanked at that. How the hell was getting locked in a near pitch black cell in an abandoned part of a prison by some creepy stranger gonna help him?

"I should explain," Blake said in a tone of patients, like he was speaking to a small child who wasn't grasping a basic concept. "I've been watching you for some time now, Murphy. You and your brother, Connor."

At the mention of his twin's name, Murphy tried to lunge at Blake, held in place by the restraints connected to the floor. The best he could do was manage to settle on his knees at he glared at the man. "If you even think about touchin' my brother," Murphy warned him.

"I'm not interested in your brother. Frankly, he's a lost cause. You, on the other hand, you're salvageable. "

What the hell was this guy on about? "Salvageable?"

Blake nodded solemnly. "Yes. Connor, he's set in his lost ways. You, though, you're able to recognize the darkness... the evil that's inside you. The demon on your arm, that just proves that you understand that you're bad, Murphy. But recognizing it like you have means you can be saved. And I will help you."

This was getting worse and worse. Now this guy thought it was his job to, what make him see the light? "Already found Jesus," Murphy told him, "I think I'm covered."

Blake frowned and shook his head. "But you have to do more than that," he insisted, "I know about your mission. The Saints of South Boston. You think you're doing His work, and that is admirable, Murphy. But you were wrong. And now you must ask for forgiveness."

"I am doin' His work," Murphy disagreed, strong in his faith. Nothing this man said would shake that belief. "I'm doin' as He asked me an' my brother ta do, an' I don't have ta' explain myself or ask for forgiveness when I've done nothin' wrong."

Blake looked almost sad. "Murphy, I have faith that you'll see the error of your ways. I'm going to help you. I'm going to shepherd you through this. God has a plan for you, Murphy. And I'm going to fulfill it. But that can only happen if you ask to be forgiven."

He wouldn't. He was already fulfilling God's plan for him. But this guy didn't believe that. He just believed that whatever he was going to do, he was going to do it to help Murphy

"An' what if I say I don't want your help?" Murphy asked.

A dark look came into Blake's eyes. "You don't get that option. You'll stay here forever. No one leaves here without asking for forgiveness."

"I'm not sorry for anythin' I've done as a Saint," Murphy declared. "I won't say I am. "

Again, that creepy smile came onto Blake's gaunt face. "Then you'll be punished."

It was then that Murphy saw something in the corner of the room that made hill blood chill. Something that scared him. Blake noticed Murphy eying the object in the corner.

"We'll get to that," Blake informed him, "but for now," he said while pulling out his guard baton, "well start out simple."

He brought the baton down hard onto Murphy's side, causing him to gasp in pain as he curled into a protective balls, trying to shield himself from the heavy blows. "After all," Blake continued, striking Murphy again, "this is just the first day to your long road of recovery."

* * *

Later, Murphy lay bloody and beaten on the dirty ground. He panted for breath, causing agony for his battered ribs. The item in the corner of the room had only been used in those last few minutes before Blake had left for his cigarette break moments before. The marks it had left burned, pain enveloping Murphy's very core.

He lay there, the darkness playing with his vision. He couldn't tell if he was blacking out of if his prison was so dark that he couldn't see at all. All he knew was that it was dark, that he hurt, and that the smell of burnt flesh was nauseating. He heard the door open and instinctively shied away from the heavy footsteps of the rogue guard.

A hand grasped roughly at his chin, forcing Murphy to look up at the man who'd spent the evening torturing him. Through hazy eyes, he saw the disappointed expression on Blake's face. He'd spat at him earlier when the man had yanked him by his dark hair, but Murphy had learned his lesson to never do that again.

"I don't want to punish you, Murphy. Soon you'll see the error of your ways and will ask for forgiveness. I have faith in you."

Murphy didn't reply. Everything hurt. He just wanted to sleep and not wake up.

"Now I know that you think you can tell someone about this. Your brother. Another guard. But I advise against that," Blake explained quietly.

A sick sound that was a strangled chuckle escaped Murphy. "What will yah do if I tell, hmm? Gonna torture me some more? Pull out the car battery again?"

Blake looked towards the object mentioned, put back in place in the corner of the room before returning his attention to the man he was crouched over. "While that is a possibility," he admitted, "I'm afraid I'll have to take more drastic motions than that. Because it could get much worse. It could be your brother down here next time."

Murphy stopped breathing. His eyes were forced to look into Blake's, seeing the sick resolution there. He watched the man's mouth form words that he couldn't process.

"And if Connor comes down here, he won't leave alive. Like I said, he's a lost cause."

And just like that, Murphy decided to not tell a soul about this. Letting Connor suffer this fate, suffer death, wasn't an option. He would take this dark secret to the grave before he allowed that to happen. He would protect Connor from this until his last breath.

He couldn't tell Connor what had happened down here in this black hell he was in, but he couldn't ask for forgiveness of something that he felt was right. All he could do was suffer... break.

"Now it's about time that we got back," Blake said while uncuffing Murphy from the floor and recuffing him behind his back. Its not like the restraints mattered anymore. Murphy was much too weak from his injuries to fight back.

Murphy was taken back to his cell he shared with Connor. He was thankful that his twin was gone at the moment, allowing him second of peace after Blake had released him and left. Staggering to his bed, Murphy looked into the small mirror in the room. He took in the fresh bruises trying to form on his face and the split lip along with the bloody nose.

He had to clean it up. Connor was gonna notice. Though the motion was pure torture on his aching body, Murphy pulled off his shirt, exposing the bruises and cracked ribs. Angry red welts from the baton marred his chest, matching nicely with the angry red burn marks that stood out on his hips where the electrodes had seared his flesh.

He shivered at the memory of electricity seising his body.

He pulled on a clean white shirt, hiding the brutality underneath. Then he used his bloody shirt to wipe what blood he could from his face. When that was done he hid the stained fabric under his mattress before laying down on his side, back to Connor when he came in.

"Murph, what the hell? Yah said yah'd only be an hour or so. Yah missed dinner an' everythin'," Connor said as the cell door locked behind him.

Murphy sighed. "Sorry, Con. I... I wasn't hungry. Had some stuff I had ta' take care of today."

Connor didn't miss the dark tone Murphy was using. Concern instantly took over. "Murph, are yah alright?"

Murphy didn't answer immediately. He wasn't alright. He was hurt, and it was bad. But he couldn't tell that to Connor, and he couldn't lie to his brother. "I'm not feelin' too well. Jus' gonna go ta' be early."

Connor walked over to his brother's bedside. He looked down at is brother, fear creeping into his heart. Gently, he reached out, cool fingers touching Murphy's face. He was shocked when his twin flinched away from his touch.

"Murphy, look at me," he commanded. Because Murphy hadn't flinched in pain. He'd done it in fear.

And then Murphy did something that he very rarely ever did. He yelled at Connor.

"I said I didn't feel well, Connor! Can't yah just leave me alone?" Murphy snarled at his brother. He didn't want to hurt Connor's feelings, but he couldn't talk about what had happened. He didn't want to.

Connor grabbed at Murphy and flipped him over, and then saw the damage that had been done to his brother. Bruises littered Murphy's face. One of his eyes was swelling shut and his lip was busted clean open, blood still drying. Connor's hands trembled in rage.

"Murphy, what the hell happened to yah?" Connor asked, ready to kill someone for what had happened to his brother. His face looked terrible and Connor knew it had to hurt.

Their eyes connected and Connor could see something there, something that he was keeping hidden. And he knew that the secret was bad enough to inspire the sheer terror that looked back at him.

"Can't yah just leave me alone, Connor? Please?" Murphy begged quietly while he turned his back to Connor, facing the wall.

Connor backed away, hurt in his eyes. Murph had never kept something from him like this. Never. But he understood that something bad had happened. Something bad enough to hurt his brother. Something bad enough that had severed the twin's relationship.

So Connor decided to leave it alone for the night. Murphy would tell him in the morning when he'd gotten some sleep. He just would. He always would. Because Murphy always told Connor. He never kept things from his twin.

Connor just didn't know that Justice had been broken in a cold and dark prison cell.


	2. Truth is Angry

_A/N: So this here's chapter is very special to me. I was inspired by a wonderful person whom I consider the Connor to my Murphy. Ladies and gents, this here shout-out goes to VeritasVamp. Thank you for the improv convos of epicness that entail angsty story-writing. Oh, and if you like this, check out Angels in Hell, my collab story with VeritasVamp._

_Warnings: This story is violent and will hurt your feels. Mentions character death (Not the twins). Continue at your own peril._

* * *

**Dead*Line**

**_Truth is Angry_**

It had been a little over a month since Murphy had asked Connor to leave him alone.

Murphy still hadn't told Connor what was wrong. He was hardly ever around to say much of anything to Connor, and when he was around, he was always angry or tired. So a month later, Connor had no idea why Murphy was showing up after long therapy sessions that lasted all day with fresh bruises on his face.

He'd tried to question Murphy about it. He'd even resulted to begging. Still, Murphy refused to say anything about it. He'd just glare at Connor, tell him to drop it, and would try to sleep. But no matter how exhausted Murphy was or how dark the circles under his eyes got, he could never get the rest he needed. He'd wake in the middle of the night, muscles seizing and twitching until the pain was too much.

Connor had once tried to tease him and said he was just getting old. When Murphy had broken down into silent tears, Connor had never felt worse.

Murphy wasn't eating. He was getting skinnier than was healthy and the long sleeve baggy shirts he'd taken to wearing only exaggerated the problem. Connor had wanted to ask about the change in wardrobe but after the whole age incident, he didn't dare. He hated walking on eggshells with his brother, something he'd never had to do before.

When Connor woke up, Murphy was already up and dressed, just like he always was. It seemed he was always cold and he tried to fight it by hiding under layers of prison clothes. It bothered Connor that he was never greeted with the sight of the familiar demon tattoos that cascaded down his brother's back.

"Murph," Connor asked tentatively, always scared of his brother's reaction anymore, "do ya wanna get some breakfast? We could go before I go ta my session. A bit ta eat would do us some good."

Murphy seemed to mull it over a bit before nodding. "Aye, suppose you're right."

The door to the cell was unlocked for an hour in the morning so prisoners could leave for their morning meal. The twins made their way down the hall, Connor slowing his pace so a limping Murphy could keep up. The protective nature of him wanted to sling Murphy's arm across his shoulders and take some of the wieght. He would've if it had been a month ago. But now, it seemed that everything he did, even out of love for his brother, only angered Murphy.

So he suffered silently as Murphy dragged his bruised body after him.

The two made it to the mess hall and got their trays before they took a seat at one of the tables. Connor frowned into his bowl as he remembered a time when the silence between him and Murphy had been comfortable. Now he could only sense the secrets that his twin was keeping from him.

It was when a prisoner neither of them knew came up to the table that Connor really paid attention to someone that wasn't Murphy. The man was huge, roid rage huge. His big, meaty hands pressed firmly onto the table, face getting to close to Connor's for the lighter twin's comfort.

"Hey, pretty boy," the man said. "I think I could use a looker like you. "

Connor got what he was implying. This man hadn't been the first in the prison to look at one or both of the brothers that way. Still, the very idea of that made Connor's flesh crawl.

"Get the hell away from him," a familiar, yet strange voice said from next to Connor. He recognized the voice to be Murphy's, but not the tone. He'd never heard that tone before coming from his twin. It wasn't Murphy's playful voice, or his serious voice. It wasn't hos Saint voice, though that was the closest comparison. It held the authority of the Saint voice, but not the infliction. No, this voice was too... distorted... too dark to be the voice of a Saint. This voice carried anger and hate.

The man turned his gaze to Murphy, who sat on Connor's right. His dark eyes fixed the darker twin with a hungry expression. One that didn't sit well with Connor.

The man smirked, a scar on his lip pulling thin. "And what are you going to do about it if I don't?" he ask, slinging an arm over Connor's shoulders. "What? Are you jealous? Because for a pretty little thing like you, I-"

Connor never knew what that man was going to say next because before he knew what was happening, Murphy had grabbed the man's hand and slammed it on the table with enough force to cause the bone to snap loudly.

The man screamed and thrashed to get away, but to Connor's horror, Murphy didn't let go. He squeezed down hard on the shattered appendage, inflicting more pain as he got up in the man's face.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Murphy asked, his voice sounding inhuman. "Touch my brother again, I'll cut it off next time."

Murphy only released his grip when Connor placed a hand gently on his shoulder. Murphy flinched away from his touch, as if he'd expected it to hurt. Connor had no explanation for the response and he didn't have time to question it before Officer Blake was there and cuffing Murphy.

"Murphy, you know this means you'll have to stay in solitary tonight," Blake said in an almost disappointed tone.

And in that moment, Connor couldn't help but notice that the rage had dissolved in Murphy's eyes and had been replaced by pure fear. He looked to Connor as Blake started to drag him away. It was the same look Connor had seen as the Russians had taken him, pleading for help. For one quick moment, Connor saw the old Murphy, and he was absolutely powerless to help him.

It took all of Connor's strength to not go to Murphy's aid. All he could do was watch as Murphy was taken away to be secluded in a dark cell for the whole night. Connor hated the idea that he wouldn't get to see Murphy for a whole day and that his brother would be all alone. At least in solitary, he was safe from whatever was harming him.

Ten minutes later, Officer Blake was back. He smiled kindly at Connor. "Sorry for the delay. I can take you to your therapy session now," he informed Connor.

The fairer twin stood and allowed Blake to cuff his hands behind his back before he was being led by the man through the halls. "Is Murph okay?" he asked the man who'd last seen his brother. "Can I go see 'em before I go meet the Doc?"

Blake offered an apologetic expression to Connor as he walked the man further down the hall. "Mr. MacManus if just fine. I'll even go check on him personally again before the night is over. But I can't let you see him. That's kinda the whole point behind solitary."

Connor frowned, but nodded. He hated the separation, but he understood the fact that Blake couldn't allow him to see his brother. Still, he appreciated the concern. "Thank ya. I just want him ta be okay..."

Blake nodded sympathetically. "Murphy is in good hands, Connor. Don't even worry about him."

But Connor couldn't help but worry. He almost never saw his brother any more, and when he did, he didn't ever act like his Murphy. He was colder. Angrier. He used to welcome Connor's touch, his brotherly hugs and pats on the shoulders. Now, he pulled away at the first sign of physical contact. Something had changed Murphy and it killed Connor that he couldn't do anything to fix it.

They come to a familiar door at the end of the hall. Blake held it open, allowing Connor to walk in. The Irishman was greeted by the friendly smile of Doctor Corissa Baker.

"Hello, Mr. MacManus. How are you feeling today?"

Blake closed the door behind Connor, allowing him to make his way over to the chair he'd sat in so many times before. Connor offered her the best smile he could manage under all his stress, his Irish charm peeking through the bad mood he was in. He liked Dr. Baker. Never once had she looked at him or Murphy with disgust or fear for being prisoners. She'd only been kind and patient, listening and never judgmental.

Connor had never discussed much with her on a personal level. He'd talk about prison life and about their mission if she asked about it, but never about his and Murphy's relationship, which she'd learned over the past month was something that she'd never be allowed a look into. However, Murphy's constant state of anger and fear had begun to wear on Connor to the point that... he needed help. And for once, Murphy couldn't be the one he went to.

Because for the first time in all their years together, Murphy had shut Connor out, and Connor didn't have a clue as to why.

"I'm feelin'... fine," Connor said pathetically as he slumped into his chair, cuffed hands pressed behind his back. Though his time with Dr. Baker was private, the restraints were necessary.

She leaned back in her chair, smoothing a strand of her long, chocolate hair behind her ear. "It doesn't _sound_ like you're feeling fine. You know you can vent to me, Mr. MacManus. It's kinda my job."

Connor smiled at her friendly approach. "I thought I told you that you could call me Connor."

"Okay," Dr. Baker agreed easily. "I'll call you Connor when you tell me what's bothering you."

Connor sighed. He didn't want to tell her that he worried that Murphy was slowly pulling away from him... was becoming someone Connor didn't recognize. He didn't want to tell her that he was a failure of a brother because he couldn't even figure out why his twin kept waking in the middle of the night, muscles clinched and body trembling in pain. He didn't want to tell her how helpless he felt when mysterious bruises showed up on Murphy's face and he received no explanation for them.

He didn't want to tell her all these things. But then... he _needed _to. For Murphy's sake. Because he knew that Murphy still loved him. He'd seen it just at breakfast when he'd come to his defense. But something was very wrong with his brother and Connor felt terrible because he didn't know what.

"Doc... My brother... I'm worried about him," Connor admitted, voice tender.

Corissa frowned a little. She'd never seen Connor so low. The Irishman was always upbeat and lively. He'd never brought up his and his brother's relationship other than telling her a few stories from their childhood, she'd never really been allowed to see the depth of their relationship. She knew they were closer than any two people she'd ever seen, but there was no possible way for her to _know _the bond between the twins. She hadn't pried and they hadn't invited. Not until today.

"What about you brother?" she asked, walking on eggshells with how far she could pressure the fairer twin.

"Well, you talk ta him more than I do, anymore," Connor said quietly, saddened by what he was telling her. "I share a cell with 'em, but he doesn't ever talk to me. He's always angry. I know yah probably can't tell me why because of the privacy thing, but he comes ta talk ta ya at every other day or so for a long time. Has he... has he said why he's mad at me?" Connor's voice broke off when he asked the question he feared the answer to.

What could he have done that was so wrong that Murphy had pulled away from him? And how could he fix it? Because he wanted his brother back. He wanted the playful attitude and the infectious, full-faced grins that only Murphy had. He missed his brother's laughter and his banter. He missed Murphy.

But Connor didn't like the look on Dr. Baker's face. The look that said she was completely lost.

And then she uttered the last words Connor had ever expected to hear.

"Connor... I haven't seen Murphy for a month. I assumed he no longer wanted my help because he stopped showing up to his sessions a long time ago."

"What?" he asked, voice cold. The fear for his brother had not only multiplied, but for the first time in the month that Murphy had detached himself from him, Connor was _angry. _Angry at himself for not knowing where Murphy had really been all this time. Angry at Murphy for not telling him. Angry at whoever the hell had cause this rift in their relationship and whoever had the _audacity_ to mark his brother with bruises and bloody lips.

Corissa drew back a little, surprised by the intensity of his gaze, those ice blue eyes seeming to stare into her soul. "Murphy MacManus has not been in here for therapy for well over a month," she repeated.

"Then where da'hell has he been goin' all this time?" Connor asked, voice in a higher octave with fear. It terrified him that he didn't know. Never once in his life had Connor not known where Murphy was. Even all those years ago when the Russians had taken Murphy from him, he'd known where his brother was.

Corissa looked him in the eye, trying to calm him. "I don't know. But we're going to find out."

"How?" Connor asked. "He won't tell me a thing!"

"We're going to make a plan," she replied simply.

* * *

Connor had gone back to his cell an hour after that. Blake had taken him back and though he'd asked to see Murphy again, the answer had remained the same. He supposed that Murphy was as safe as he could be in solitary, though. At least he'd be away from whoever was hurting him.

Connor didn't sleep that night. He was much too worried... to angry at his twin. Why the hell had Murphy suddenly decided that he couldn't trust him with what had been going on? Connor had no idea, but he was going to find out.

He was going to yell at Murphy. He was going to rage. It was going to be a thousand times worse than their last fight, which had been over who got to drive when they'd both first gotten their permits. Connor was going to snap at his twin until Murphy told him how he could help him!

He was going to. But then Blake brought Murphy back the next day.

His brother could barely walk. He looked dead on his feet. There was obviously no need for the restraints that cuffed Murphy's raw wrists behind his back, but Blake only removed them when they had reached the MacManus cell.

"Murphy!" Connor cried his brother's name as his twin practically collapsed at the door of his cell. He was too weak to even make it to his own bed. Connor was up and by his side before he could hit the ground, holding the weight of the person he loved most in his arms. It was then that he really noticed how thin Murphy had become, feeling his ribs protruding from under his baggy shirt.

Before he could ask Officer Blake for some sort of doctor for his battered brother, he was gone, leaving Connor alone with Murphy's broken form.

Connor carried his brother over to his bed, laying him down as gently as he could. He smoothed the dark hair out of Murphy's eyes, taking in the damage.

His eyes had dark circles under them from sleepless nights. Bruises peppered his face, dark purple splotches that patched over his flesh. His dry lip seemed permanently split, blood trickling slowly from the wound. Connor gapped at his brother. He was too light... He needed water.

"I-It's alright, Murph," he called softly as he moved to the sink in their cell, grabbing an old tin cup and filling with the liquid his dehydrated brother needed. He was carful to not spill a drop as he held the cup in one hand, slipping the other under Murphy's head so he could lift his twin's head up. He sat where Murphy's head had been resting, allowing his lap to become his brother's pillow.

"Murph?" he called as he gently patted his brother's cheek. When he got no response, he started to smack harder, dropping the pet name as panic took over. "Murphy MacManus, you wake up, now! Ya just gotta wake up, Murphy," he begged his twin to rise. Fear consumed his heart. Was he too late? Was his brother going to... to di-

No. Connor refused to allow that.

Connor cradled his twin's head in his hand, propping Murphy up so he could press the cup to his lips. "C'mon, Murphy. Drink up," he encouraged, throat tight with emotion as Murphy gave him no reaction.

"Please, wake up, Murphy, " Connor called softly to his brother. He jumped a little when Murphy responded to him, jerking awake violently, choking on the water. Connor tried to pull it away, but Murphy had reached up with trembling hands, instinctively latching onto the drink he desperately needed.

"That's it," Connor encouraged as he held Murphy's battered body close to him, steadying the cup with one of his own hands. "That's good, Murphy."

Murphy's eyes barely cracked open, the light stinging painfully as he looked up lovingly to his twin. He looked so fragile to Connor. So broken. But it was that dependent look in Murphy's bright blue eyes that said this was his brother, his Murphy. Not the angry shadow that he'd seen for the past month.

Connor managed to keep the tears at bay. Crying wasn't going to help his brother. It would only worry him further. He needed to be strong for his twin, to take charge and to fix him.

It was when Connor's hand slipped and his fingers brushed against Murphy's wrist and Murphy flinched at the contact did he begin to assess how bad the situation really was.

As gently as he could be, he took the cup from his brother. Murphy was conscious, but he was groggy, barely managing to stay awake. Connor's long fingers shook as he took Murphy's hand in his, inspecting the damage that had been done around his wrists.

Deep rivets marred the tender flesh there. The wounds were red and angry. They had signs that they'd attmepted to heal over but had been reopened. Recently. And Connor knew they were from handcuffs because he had the same scars, fadded and pale.

Someone had been chaining up his brother.

Anger rushed through Connor at the very thought. He wanted to kill whoever was responsible, to keep his brother safe. But he kept a cool head. Flying off the handle with Murphy in this damaged state wasn't an option. Murphy came first.

"Murph?" Connor called, not wanting to do a thing to scare his brother away after this small reconnection. "Yah look like a mess. I'm gonna get yah a fresh shirt, alright?" He wasn't really going to wait for a confirmation. He was going to take care of Murphy no matter what. He just wanted him to know what was going on so he didn't sever their slight bond.

"C-Con... Connor... Wait," Murphy said weakly. He couldn't let him see. He couldn't let him find out. Connor couldn't know.

But his brother ignored him. His fingers pulled at the hem of Murphy's shirt, yanking the material over his twin's head before he could protest, revealing what Murphy had tried so hard to hide.

Connor had seen a lot of horrible things in his life. He'd seen a Russian try to take Murphy from him. He'd seen a cat exploaded on a wall. He'd seen his friend's body lying on a basement floor. He'd seen the pain on his brother's face as he'd broken Murphy's hand to escape from that basement. And he'd seen his father die in front of his eyes. But nothing could ever compare to the nightmare he saw now.

"Oh..." Connor breathed, the shock washing over him. His jaw hung open in horror, eyes wide as he took in the damage that his brother had hidden from him for over a month. "Oh, Murphy..."

The first thing Connor noticed were the ribs. He'd known Murphy had looked thin, but he'd never expected... The bruised skin was pulled so tight over Murphy's ribs that he could see the cracks in the precious bones where they'd been broken and had attempted to heal, only to be broken again. The ribs were black and battered. For a moment, the thought of internal bleeding flashed through Connor's mind.

Then he saw the burns.

Two almost charred areas of flesh had been burned into the skin on Murphy's prominant hip bones. The patterns were almost like spider webs, suggesting electrical burns. Electrical burns that were targeted, cleverly hidden. It was then that Connor realized to his great horror...

Someone had been torturing his Murphy.

"Murph," Connor croaked, throat closing up in pure horror. "Tell me who's done this ta ya. Tell me what's been goin' on."

"I... I can't," Murphy sighed. His voice was weak... tiny like a whisper. "I didn't want yah ta know..."

"Tell me," Connor begged. "Murphy, please tell me. What the hell has been goin' on?"

Murphy wasn't listening, now. His eyes were rolling in their sockets as he lost the battle to stay awake. "Gotta... gotta keep ya safe, Connor. Don't... don't worry," he assured as his head dropped to his chest, body too weak to stay awake any longer.

And as Connor held his brother's broken body in his lap, he decided that whoever had done this was going to die. Because now, Truth was very, very angry.


	3. Safe and Sound One

_A/N: This is the final chapter. This happens so be tied to a song. As you read this, I strongly suggest you listen to Taylor Swift and the Civil Wars - Safe And Sound. I'd also like to thank you for sticking through this with me. Thank you, Boondock Family._

_ONE MORE THING! I was bad. I wrote two endings to the same story. I've NEVER done an alternate ending before, so if it doesn't come off well, I am sorry. One is a nice-ish ending and the other... not so much. They're exactly the same though until the climax, though. So when you get done reading, please let me know which one you liked the best._

_Oh, and this is just me bragging. Now I have not only Sean Patrick Flanery following me but as of last night, freaking David Della Rocco. Now I'm crossing my fingers for Reedenstine, who I'm currently in the car going to see at Wizard World Chicago. Bam. Bragging done._

_Warnings: This story is violent and will hurt your feels. Mentions character death. Continue at your own peril._

* * *

**Dead*Line**

_**Safe and Sound Part One**_

It was dark. Connor couldn't see much as he stumbled blindly through the pitch black halls of the prison. He wasn't going by sight, anyways. He didn't need it when he was following the sounds.

The eerie sounds of Murphy's screams. They bounced and echoed off the walls, making Connor's heart hammer and his legs tremble as he moved faster, desperate to find his twin.

And he did find him. It was a cold and dark cell deep in the maze of the prison that Connor found Murphy in. Or at least, what was left of Murphy.

His brother lay on the cold concrete floor in ruins. His wrists were cuffed behind him, bleeding from the metal that had torn at his flesh. His hands were penned awkwardly under the curve of his spine, looking painful to Connor.

He moved to Murphy's side just as his twin began to cough up blood. When Connor got closer, falling to his knees by his brother's side, he could see the bruises and cuts were darker and deeper than he'd ever seen before. And then he pulled Murphy's head into his lap and felt how cold his skin was.

Deathly cold.

"M-Murph? Murphy?" Connor called softly as he swept the messy hair from his brother's eyes, unable to keep the tremor from his tone. Murphy's eyes tried so hard to focus on him, but they rolled about in his skull, glazed and unseeing.

He had to help him! To make him comfortable. Connor tried to tear at the cuffs encircling Murphy's wrists, but they wouldn't give. Sighing in frustration, Connor gave up and pressed a kiss to his brother's bleeding head. "Oh, Murph, I'm so sorry..."

Murphy coughed blood again. Connor feared he would choke on it, so he propped him up further, allowing Murphy's head to lull against his trembling shoulders. He looked like he was going to try to say something when all of a sudden, his back arched in pain and a horrible scream tore from his damaged throat, body convulsing.

Only Connor knew it wasn't a scream. It was a death rattle. It was the last sound Murphy would ever make. Because Connor held Murphy as he made his final cry of anguish. Held him until it stopped. Held him until Murphy MacManus was no more.

Connor was left behind. And oh, how Connor screamed...

* * *

Connor jolted awake, his cry still on his lips as the fog of his nightmare was cast away. He blinked the horrible images from his eyes and looked around to see that he was still in his cell, Murphy's head laying in his lap where he'd fallen asleep last night.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Murphy's bright blue eyes trained on him, fingers interlaced with Connor's. "Con?" he rasped, "ya okay?"

Connor laughed darkly. "You're really gonna ask me that? After you've been hidin' that," he gestured to Murphy's chest, "from me? Your brother?"

Murphy frowned. This was the conversation he'd been avoiding for a month now. But now, he couldn't hide. He sighed. "What do ya want, Connor?"

Connor looked down on his brother, so worn and beaten. "Murphy, tell me... Ya tell me who, now. Please... Whoever's doin' this... He's killin' ya! Let me help ya... Murphy... please!" Connor found himself begging. He wanted to rage, to force Murphy tell him, but Murphy had already been through too much to be yelled at.

Murphy's heart broke at the sound of Connor's pleading, but he had to keep him safe. "No! No, Connor! He said he'd kill ya if I told and I can't let that happen! I'll die before that! I gotta keep ya safe..." His tone became dark... accepting his fate. "No matter the cost."

That last part had Connor panicking. He couldn't accept that. He also couldn't stop his tears from falling. "Murph... this is your life we're talkin' about! Please... please! I can take care o' m'self. Tell me... Tell me, brudder!"

Murphy turned his head, unable to stand seeing his brother so upset. "He said... he'd do to ya what he'd done ta me... but he wouldn't stop. He'd torture ya ta death, Con... My life is worth it, ta keep ya safe from that."

No, it wasn't. Nothing was worth Murphy's life in Connor's eyes. And this person... Whoever had done this had already done so much damage. "No... Murph... my Murph... He'll torture ya ta death instead! Let me take it fer yah. Let me!" He was more than willing. He would do anything for Murphy.

"I... I'm strong enough ta take it..." Murphy argued. He was resolved that he'd live to keep Connor safe from this fate. "I won't die... gotta live ta take the beatin's... gotta live ta keep ya safe."

Connor didn't understand. How could Murphy do this alone? How could he say this? He knew Connor could take it, too. "I don't doubt your strength brother... But I don't want ya ta take the beatin' for me. Please... let me take it for m'self. Please?"

Murphy tried to sit up so he could assert the severity of the situation, but he lacked the strength. Instead, he clutched at Connor's hand. "No! I told ya, he said he'd kill ya! He doesn't wanna kill me..." he admitted the grim truth. "He wants me ta suffer. This way, we both live! I gotta keep ya safe!"

Connor aches at seeing his twin too weak to sit up. He gently lifts him so Murphy can rest his back against their cell wall. "Murphy," he cries, "but when will he stop? He will, right? He'll stop?!" He had to hold on to that impossible hope, because Connor was helpless to assist his brother.

Murphy hung his head low in defeat. He wanted to lie, but he couldn't. Not to Connor. "No. He won't stop. He wants me ta say sorry for what I've done for the Lord. An' I refuse," said firmly, strong in his faith. "I won't. An' he won't stop till I do."

Connor looked to his brother, unable to wrap his mind around the situation. He took Murphy's hand in his, trying to offer him comfort. "S-so, he...he's killin' yah, Murph?" The awful worlds choked from his mouth. "Torturin' yah ta... death?" When Murphy wouldn't look up to him, he knew he was right. A wave of panic washed over him. "Ya gotta tell me, brother... I'll kill him! I'll save ya!"

Murphy just sat there, starring at the opposite wall as he tried to order his thoughts. He wanted to cry but couldn't. He was just... too tired. He knew he couldn't tell Connor who it was, and there was no way in hell he'd tell Connor what Blake had done to him. It was bad enough he'd seen the damage...

Murphy looked down and realized to his horror that he wasn't wearing a shirt. His wounds... the bruises... the burns... the mess was all there, exposed to the world to see. Somehow, the tears still managed to form. "Need a shirt," he said in an exhausted tone as he attempted to stand and go find one.

A steadying hand found his shoulder, pushing him gently back down to the bed. "I'll get it," Connor mumbled. He found Murphy something clean, with the long sleeves he always wore anymore. Now that Connor knew why...

Connor sank down onto the bed next to his brother. "C'mon, lets get this on," he said, preparing to help dress his brother.

Murphy eyed him. "I can do it m'self," he whispered as he attempted to snatch the shirt. He was too slow.

"Shut it," Connor growled, protective nature taking over. "Up."

Murphy sighed and raised his arms high enough that Connor could feed the limbs through the fabric. When he was covered, he slumped back against the wall, all energy sapped. "Thanks, Con."

Connor leaned back next to him, only nodding. He had a thousand questions, but he knew Murphy wasn't going to want to answer any of them. Still, he felt he needed to try to do something to help him.

"Murphy... Can we please getchya help? Talk ta someone about this? Please... I just... Can't sit by and watch ya... ya get worse..." Because it could only get worse. If this man wasn't stopped, then Murphy's body would take the abuse until it couldn't heal anymore. And Connor... He couldn't let that happen.

Murphy just shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. All he wanted was for Connor to love him until... until it was time to go back. He let his head fall to rest on his brother's shoulder. "I love you, Connor," his voice a hoarse whisper.

Tentatively, Connor's arm snaked around his brother, pulling him closer. He kissed the top of Murphy's head, tears in his eyes threatening to fall. He couldn't let this happen anymore. He couldn't let someone kill his brother like this. And though Murphy isn't going to help him, he has a plan. He's going to take care of it.

Murphy sighed as he leaned into Connor, worrying the fairer twin. "Am I... Am I hurtin' ya? I know you're... You've got some bruises..."

"You're fine. M'just enjoyin' m'self a bit," Murphy explained, easing Connor's worries. The two relaxed, holding each other, trying to prolong the easy moment so they didn't have to think of anything outside of their jail cell.

And then they heard footsteps as Blake stepped into view, cuffs in hand. Connor felt Murphy tense under his arm. It was then that it clicked. What had really been going on here. Who was to blame for all of this. And though Connor wanted to defend his brother now, he had to follow the plan. And the plan says... that he let Murphy go. Because though something in Connor knew this man was to blame for what had happened to Murphy, he didn't have proof.

"Ready for your session?" Blake asked, eyes trained on the battered darker twin.

Connor felt Murphy tremble under his touch. This couldn't happen. It couldn't. Because the bruises and the cuts and the burns... they all said that Murphy couldn't take much more of this. His brother was strong, but not immortal.

"Murphy's not feelin' too well," Connor spoke up, trying to keep his expression neutral, not revealing the utter rage he felt churning inside him. "I t'ink he should skip out today."

Murphy pulled himself together. He didn't know if Connor knew about Blake. He guessed he didn't because his Connor would be trying to kill the man right now if he knew. But Murphy knew he couldn't refuse to go. "M'fine," he breathed as he pulled away from the warmth of Connor's arms.

"Murph, ya can barely stand up..." Connor said quietly.

"I said m'fine, Con!" And there he was. He'd had his brother back for less than a day before angry Murphy had come back to take over. But Connor could still see that under the harsh tone and the set jaw, Murphy's eyes betrayed him. They showed the love he held for Connor. The showed the fear of what was coming.

And Connor couldn't do a single thing about it.

"You're going to be late, Mr. MacManus," Blake called the darker twin to suffer.

"M'comin'," Murphy mumbled as he hobbled slowly over to the officer. He made it to the bars of his cell and turned so his bleeding wrists could be cuffed behind his back.

And it was tearing Connor apart as he watched his brother being led away. Led away by the person intent on making his twin's death slow and utterly painful. And suddenly, Connor was struck with a vision of the first day Blake had come to claim Murphy. He remembered his twin's eyes being so bright and calm as he mouthed the words, It's alright with a smile on his face.

But Murphy's eyes were cold now. Dead. There was no smile and Connor questioned if there ever would be again. But Murphy still looked to his brother, one last time. And he said silently to him the most important thing. I love you. And then Blake pulled a half-dead Murphy from his cell, taking him to some hell Connor had never known.

But this time, Connor wasn't done.

He paced the cell, his body feeling the need to do something as he waited for the plan to fall into place. And when he heard a set of footsteps from down the hall, he knew it was time. Connor went to the bars, eagerly waiting as Dr. Baker came to meet him. A gun was holstered on her hip and she carried a set of handcuffs.

Connor was relieved to see her. He wanted to trust her, but he didn't know if he could trust anyone in this prison other than Murphy. But Corissa had so far only helped him, and he was willing to put his faith in her. "They just left," he told her. "Murph's hurt real bad. He's gonna be slow, so we can trail them."

Corissa nodded. "Alright. But before we go, I have to cuff you."

Connor recoiled. "If we find that guy hurting my brother, I'm gonna need my hands," he reasoned. Because he wasn't going to just sit by and let her arrest a man who deserved a spot in the lowest circle of hell.

"I understand, and if we find something like that, I'll take them off. But while walking through the prison, we gotta have the cuffs or I'll get called out and we can't afford the attention," she argued back.

Connor knew he couldn't fight with her on this. There wasn't enough time, so he just offered her his wrists. She cuffed him loosely, hands in front of him. If he tried, he could slip his hands through. He nodded appreciatively before walking off in the direction Blake had taken Murphy. "Let's go get my brother."

The cop and the convict made a speedy trip through the prison, following a general direction. Connor knew. He could feel his brother was close. He always could feel it when Murphy was near. And now, he had an idea where he was going. The abandoned solitary confinement cell block was his best bet and Connor was going with it.

Corissa followed him without a word. She was ready for anything. Her hand remained on her hip, near her gun as she followed a determined Connor through the cells. The halls became darker and darker as they moved to the abandoned section of the prison.

It was when the dark began to take over that they heard the screams.

Connor ran, stumbling in the dark. Suddenly, his nightmare came back to him, the vision of Murphy dying in his arms pushing him forward. He couldn't allow that to happen. He was ripping the cuffs off his hands as he ran, all the while praying to God that he wasn't too late...

Connor rounded a corner into the cell where the screams were coming from. The most horrible thing he'd over seen was laying in wait there.

Murphy was on the floor, like in Connor's nightmare. One of his hands were free while the other was cuffed to a grate in the floor. His brother convulsed on the ground as electricity from a car battery attached by electrodes to his hips over the previous burns coursed through his body. His face was contorted in agony as he tried but failed to hold back his pitiful screams.

Connor reacted.

This wasn't anything like the Russians. With the Russians, Connor had been thinking. He'd had a plan in mind. He'd known to go to the roof, to drop the toilet and then himself in order to save Murphy. But here in this dark cell where his twin had been tortured, Connor didn't think.

He was brutal.

An animal.

An avenging demon.

He tacked Blake off of his brother, cutting the current running through Murphy's body. He straddled the man and brought fist after fist down on his face.

He didn't stop.

He didn't stop when Blake's nose broke under his knuckles.

He didn't stop when Blake begged him to.

He didn't stop when Blake stopped begging.

He didn't stop when Blake stopped breathing.

Connor didn't stop.

He did stop when a warm hand found his shoulder. He snapped his head in the direction of the touch, ready to lash out when he saw that it was Corissa. He relaxed just a fraction of a second before he realized...

"Murphy."

Murphy didn't respond to his name. He was still... too still.

"Murphy!" Connor screamed as he scrambled to his twin's side. He picked up Murphy's head, gently smacking his cheeks. "Murph, wake the hell up! Wake up, now! Please wake up!"

But Murphy didn't wake. So Connor's fingers went to feel for a pulse. And he didn't find one. Because Murphy wasn't there anymore, in that dark cold cell, laying limp in his brother's arms as Connor sobbed over his broken body that was still chained to a grate in the floor. Murphy had died to protect the person he'd loved most in this world, and he wouldn't have done a thing differently.

And now he was somewhere else, where there was no need to suffer, because where he was... he was safe and sound, waiting for Connor.

* * *

_Yes, I know. It was sad. That's what Reedus gets for being the only saint to not follow me. Try the next chapter. It's ending is... different._


	4. Safe and Sound Two

_A/N__: This is the final chapter. This happens so be tied to a song. As you read this, I strongly suggest you listen to Taylor Swift and the Civil Wars - Safe And Sound. I'd also like to thank you for sticking through this with me. Thank you, Boondock Family._

_So... yeah this is the happy ending. Sorry about that!_

_Warnings__: This story is violent and will hurt your feels. Mentions character death. Continue at your own peril._

* * *

**Dead*Line**

**_Safe and Sound_**

It was dark. Connor couldn't see much as he stumbled blindly through the pitch black halls of the prison. He wasn't going by sight, anyways. He didn't need it when he was following the sounds.

The eerie sounds of Murphy's screams. They bounced and echoed off the walls, making Connor's heart hammer and his legs tremble as he moved faster, desperate to find his twin.

And he did find him. It was a cold and dark cell deep in the maze of the prison that Connor found Murphy in. Or at least, what was left of Murphy.

His brother lay on the cold concrete floor in ruins. His wrists were cuffed behind him, bleeding from the metal that had torn at his flesh. His hands were penned awkwardly under the curve of his spine, looking painful to Connor.

He moved to Murphy's side just as his twin began to cough up blood. When Connor got closer, falling to his knees by his brother's side, he could see the bruises and cuts were darker and deeper than he'd ever seen before. And then he pulled Murphy's head into his lap and felt how cold his skin was.

Deathly cold.

"M-Murph? Murphy?" Connor called softly as he swept the messy hair from his brother's eyes, unable to keep the tremor from his tone. Murphy's eyes tried so hard to focus on him, but they rolled about in his skull, glazed and unseeing.

He had to help him! To make him comfortable. Connor tried to tear at the cuffs encircling Murphy's wrists, but they wouldn't give. Sighing in frustration, Connor gave up and pressed a kiss to his brother's bleeding head. "Oh, Murph, I'm so sorry..."

Murphy coughed blood again. Connor feared he would choke on it, so he propped him up further, allowing Murphy's head to lull against his trembling shoulders. He looked like he was going to try to say something when all of a sudden, his back arched in pain and a horrible scream tore from his damaged throat, body convulsing.

Only Connor knew it wasn't a scream. It was a death rattle. It was the last sound Murphy would ever make. Because Connor held Murphy as he made his final cry of anguish. Held him until it stopped. Held him until Murphy MacManus was no more.

Connor was left behind. And oh, how Connor screamed...

* * *

Connor jolted awake, his cry still on his lips as the fog of his nightmare was cast away. He blinked the horrible images from his eyes and looked around to see that he was still in his cell, Murphy's head laying in his lap where he'd fallen asleep last night.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Murphy's bright blue eyes trained on him, fingers interlaced with Connor's. "Con?" he rasped, "ya okay?"

Connor laughed darkly. "You're really gonna ask me that? After you've been hidin' that," he gestured to Murphy's chest, "from me? Your brother?"

Murphy frowned. This was the conversation he'd been avoiding for a month now. But now, he couldn't hide. He sighed. "What do ya want, Connor?"

Connor looked down on his brother, so worn and beaten. "Murphy, tell me... Ya tell me who, now. Please... Whoever's doin' this... He's killin' ya! Let me help ya... Murphy... please!" Connor found himself begging. He wanted to rage, to force Murphy tell him, but Murphy had already been through too much to be yelled at.

Murphy's heart broke at the sound of Connor's pleading, but he had to keep him safe. "No! No, Connor! He said he'd kill ya if I told and I can't let that happen! I'll die before that! I gotta keep ya safe..." His tone became dark... accepting his fate. "No matter the cost."

That last part had Connor panicking. He couldn't accept that. He also couldn't stop his tears from falling. "Murph... this is your life we're talkin' about! Please... please! I can take care o' m'self. Tell me... Tell me, brudder!"

Murphy turned his head, unable to stand seeing his brother so upset. "He said... he'd do to ya what he'd done ta me... but he wouldn't stop. He'd torture ya ta death, Con... My life is worth it, ta keep ya safe from that."

No, it wasn't. Nothing was worth Murphy's life in Connor's eyes. And this person... Whoever had done this had already done so much damage. "No... Murph... my Murph... He'll torture ya ta death instead! Let me take it fer yah. Let me!" He was more than willing. He would do anything for Murphy.

"I... I'm strong enough ta take it..." Murphy argued. He was resolved that he'd live to keep Connor safe from this fate. "I won't die... gotta live ta take the beatin's... gotta live ta keep ya safe."

Connor didn't understand. How could Murphy do this alone? How could he say this? He knew Connor could take it, too. "I don't doubt your strength brother... But I don't want ya ta take the beatin' for me. Please... let me take it for m'self. Please?"

Murphy tried to sit up so he could assert the severity of the situation, but he lacked the strength. Instead, he clutched at Connor's hand. "No! I told ya, he said he'd kill ya! He doesn't wanna kill me..." he admitted the grim truth. "He wants me ta suffer. This way, we both live! I gotta keep ya safe!"

Connor aches at seeing his twin too weak to sit up. He gently lifts him so Murphy can rest his back against their cell wall. "Murphy," he cries, "but when will he stop? He will, right? He'll stop?!" He had to hold on to that impossible hope, because Connor was helpless to assist his brother.

Murphy hung his head low in defeat. He wanted to lie, but he couldn't. Not to Connor. "No. He won't stop. He wants me ta say sorry for what I've done for the Lord. An' I refuse," said firmly, strong in his faith. "I won't. An' he won't stop till I do."

Connor looked to his brother, unable to wrap his mind around the situation. He took Murphy's hand in his, trying to offer him comfort. "S-so, he...he's killin' yah, Murph?" The awful worlds choked from his mouth. "Torturin' yah ta... death?" When Murphy wouldn't look up to him, he knew he was right. A wave of panic washed over him. "Ya gotta tell me, brother... I'll kill him! I'll save ya!"

Murphy just sat there, starring at the opposite wall as he tried to order his thoughts. He wanted to cry but couldn't. He was just... too tired. He knew he couldn't tell Connor who it was, and there was no way in hell he'd tell Connor what Blake had done to him. It was bad enough he'd seen the damage...

Murphy looked down and realized to his horror that he wasn't wearing a shirt. His wounds... the bruises... the burns... the mess was all there, exposed to the world to see. Somehow, the tears still managed to form. "Need a shirt," he said in an exhausted tone as he attempted to stand and go find one.

A steadying hand found his shoulder, pushing him gently back down to the bed. "I'll get it," Connor mumbled. He found Murphy something clean, with the long sleeves he always wore anymore. Now that Connor knew why...

Connor sank down onto the bed next to his brother. "C'mon, lets get this on," he said, preparing to help dress his brother.

Murphy eyed him. "I can do it m'self," he whispered as he attempted to snatch the shirt. He was too slow.

"Shut it," Connor growled, protective nature taking over. "Up."

Murphy sighed and raised his arms high enough that Connor could feed the limbs through the fabric. When he was covered, he slumped back against the wall, all energy sapped. "Thanks, Con."

Connor leaned back next to him, only nodding. He had a thousand questions, but he knew Murphy wasn't going to want to answer any of them. Still, he felt he needed to try to do something to help him.

"Murphy... Can we please getchya help? Talk ta someone about this? Please... I just... Can't sit by and watch ya... ya get worse..." Because it could only get worse. If this man wasn't stopped, then Murphy's body would take the abuse until it couldn't heal anymore. And Connor... He couldn't let that happen.

Murphy just shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. All he wanted was for Connor to love him until... until it was time to go back. He let his head fall to rest on his brother's shoulder. "I love you, Connor," his voice a hoarse whisper.

Tentatively, Connor's arm snaked around his brother, pulling him closer. He kissed the top of Murphy's head, tears in his eyes threatening to fall. He couldn't let this happen anymore. He couldn't let someone kill his brother like this. And though Murphy isn't going to help him, he has a plan. He's going to take care of it.

Murphy sighed as he leaned into Connor, worrying the fairer twin. "Am I... Am I hurtin' ya? I know you're... You've got some bruises..."

"You're fine. M'just enjoyin' m'self a bit," Murphy explained, easing Connor's worries. The two relaxed, holding each other, trying to prolong the easy moment so they didn't have to think of anything outside of their jail cell.

And then they heard footsteps as Blake stepped into view, cuffs in hand. Connor felt Murphy tense under his arm. It was then that it clicked. What had really been going on here. Who was to blame for all of this. And though Connor wanted to defend his brother now, he had to follow the plan. And the plan says... that he let Murphy go. Because though something in Connor knew this man was to blame for what had happened to Murphy, he didn't have proof.

"Ready for your session?" Blake asked, eyes trained on the battered darker twin.

Connor felt Murphy tremble under his touch. This couldn't happen. It couldn't. Because the bruises and the cuts and the burns... they all said that Murphy couldn't take much more of this. His brother was strong, but not immortal.

"Murphy's not feelin' too well," Connor spoke up, trying to keep his expression neutral, not revealing the utter rage he felt churning inside him. "I t'ink he should skip out today."

Murphy pulled himself together. He didn't know if Connor knew about Blake. He guessed he didn't because his Connor would be trying to kill the man right now if he knew. But Murphy knew he couldn't refuse to go. "M'fine," he breathed as he pulled away from the warmth of Connor's arms.

"Murph, ya can barely stand up..." Connor said quietly.

"I said m'fine, Con!" And there he was. He'd had his brother back for less than a day before angry Murphy had come back to take over. But Connor could still see that under the harsh tone and the set jaw, Murphy's eyes betrayed him. They showed the love he held for Connor. The showed the fear of what was coming.

And Connor couldn't do a single thing about it.

"You're going to be late, Mr. MacManus," Blake called the darker twin to suffer.

"M'comin'," Murphy mumbled as he hobbled slowly over to the officer. He made it to the bars of his cell and turned so his bleeding wrists could be cuffed behind his back.

And it was tearing Connor apart as he watched his brother being led away. Led away by the person intent on making his twin's death slow and utterly painful. And suddenly, Connor was struck with a vision of the first day Blake had come to claim Murphy. He remembered his twin's eyes being so bright and calm as he mouthed the words, It's alright with a smile on his face.

But Murphy's eyes were cold now. Dead. There was no smile and Connor questioned if there ever would be again. But Murphy still looked to his brother, one last time. And he said silently to him the most important thing. I love you. And then Blake pulled a half-dead Murphy from his cell, taking him to some hell Connor had never known.

But this time, Connor wasn't done.

He paced the cell, his body feeling the need to do something as he waited for the plan to fall into place. And when he heard a set of footsteps from down the hall, he knew it was time. Connor went to the bars, eagerly waiting as Dr. Baker came to meet him. A gun was holstered on her hip and she carried a set of handcuffs.

Connor was relieved to see her. He wanted to trust her, but he didn't know if he could trust anyone in this prison other than Murphy. But Corissa had so far only helped him, and he was willing to put his faith in her. "They just left," he told her. "Murph's hurt real bad. He's gonna be slow, so we can trail them."

Corissa nodded. "Alright. But before we go, I have to cuff you."

Connor recoiled. "If we find that guy hurting my brother, I'm gonna need my hands," he reasoned. Because he wasn't going to just sit by and let her arrest a man who deserved a spot in the lowest circle of hell.

"I understand, and if we find something like that, I'll take them off. But while walking through the prison, we gotta have the cuffs or I'll get called out and we can't afford the attention," she argued back.

Connor knew he couldn't fight with her on this. There wasn't enough time, so he just offered her his wrists. She cuffed him loosely, hands in front of him. If he tried, he could slip his hands through. He nodded appreciatively before walking off in the direction Blake had taken Murphy. "Let's go get my brother."  
_

The cop and the convict made a speedy trip through the prison, following a general direction. Connor knew. He could feel his brother was close. He always could feel it when Murphy was near. And now, he had an idea where he was going. The abandoned solitary confinement cell block was his best bet and Connor was going with it.

Corissa followed him without a word. She was ready for anything. Her hand remained on her hip, near her gun as she followed a determined Connor through the cells. The halls became darker and darker as they moved to the abandoned section of the prison.

It was when the dark began to take over that they heard the screams.

Connor ran, stumbling in the dark. Suddenly, his nightmare came back to him, the vision of Murphy dying in his arms pushing him forward. He couldn't allow that to happen. He was ripping the cuffs off his hands as he ran, all the while praying to God that he wasn't too late...

Connor rounded a corner into the cell where the screams were coming from. The most horrible thing he'd over seen was laying in wait there.

Murphy was on the floor, like in Connor's nightmare. One of his hands were free while the other was cuffed to a grate in the floor. His brother convulsed on the ground as electricity from a car battery attached by electrodes to his hips over the previous burns coursed through his body. His face was contorted in agony as he tried but failed to hold back his pitiful screams.

Connor reacted.

This wasn't anything like the Russians. With the Russians, Connor had been thinking. He'd had a plan in mind. He'd known to go to the roof, to drop the toilet and then himself in order to save Murphy. But here in this dark cell where his twin had been tortured, Connor didn't think.

He was brutal.

An animal.

An avenging demon.

He tacked Blake off of his brother, cutting the current running through Murphy's body. He straddled the man and brought fist after fist down on his face.

He didn't stop.

He didn't stop when Blake's nose broke under his knuckles.

He didn't stop when Blake begged him to.

He didn't stop when Blake stopped begging.

He didn't stop when Blake stopped breathing.

Connor didn't stop.

He did stop when a warm hand found his shoulder. He snapped his head in the direction of the touch, ready to lash out when he saw that it was Corissa. He relaxed just a fraction of a second before he realized...

"Murphy."

Connor flew across the room to his brother's side. Murphy was still seising from the electricity, his body quivering and shaking on the floor of the cell, his cuffs ratting on the grate and slicing into his already mangled wrists. Connor fell to his knees next to his brother, tentatively reaching out to touch him.

"Murph? Murphy? Ya with me here?" he called as he pulled his brother's upper body into his arms. Murphy shook, electricity still forcing his body to tremble. His eyes opened against the pain, finding Connor there. A small smile found its way onto his busted lips.

Connor's heart broke at the smile. "Oh, Murph... I've got ya... Connor's got ya, Murph..."

"D-Did ya... ya..." Talking hurt. But Murphy didn't need to. Connor knew what he was asking.

"I killed him, Murphy. It's all over. All over."

"G-Good..." Murphy breathed. He tried to reach up to touch Connor's face, but his arm that wasn't pressed between him and his brother was still chained. When Connor heard the rattle, he looked to Corissa, who hovered over Blake's body as she check for a nonexistent pulse.

"Dr. Baker... please, do you see the key to the cuffs over there?"

She didn't reply. She wore a grim expression as she silently found the keys Connor asked for and tossed them to the blond. Connor didn't hesitate to unchain his brother, pulling him impossibly closer as Murphy sobbed into his chest. "It's okay... it's okay, Murph. We're gonna get ya patched up an' everythin' will be okay again... You'll see."

"You forgot that you killed a police officer," Corissa pointed out with a sad tone. "And while he deserved it, there's only one penalty you'll get for that in this state."

Connor's eyes widened and his heart sped. The death penalty. He would die because he'd stopped a man from torturing his brother. And while Connor wasn't scared of dying, he couldn't leave Murphy. Not like this. Not ever.

Murphy understood what she was saying. His hands fisted in Connor's shirt, trying to someone pull him closer. Would he suffer all he had in order to keep Connor safe just to lose him? He couldn't take that. He'd die. "No... No, please... I can't... Can't lose Con..." he sputtered with a choked voice.

"Shh... Murph, relax," Connor commanded, softly rocking his twin's battered body. His sad eyes turned to Corissa. "Thank you for helping me save my brother. And... if it comes to... that... would you look after him? Until he's healed?"

"Con, no!" Murphy coughed, body curling in on itself.

"It's not going to come to that," Corissa said firmly. "I'm going to get you two boys out of here."

Both twins looked at her, Murphy weakly and Connor with confusion. They both asked at the same time, "What?"

Corissa smiled softly. Now she could finally tell them. "I know you're familiar with a special agent Eunice Bloom?" she questioned, already knowing the answer.

Hope bubbled in Connor and Murphy's stomachs. "Aye, that we do," Connor answered for his injured brother.

"Eunice and I go way back. Elementary school back. When she asked for me to help break you boys out, I couldn't say no. Not when you guys don't deserve to be here. Now, we just have to speed things up. Tonight," she explained.

The twins blanked. Their world had been shattered moments ago, and though things were far from perfect, it was as if The Lord had sent them a blessing to get them through. Connor grinned at the thought of freedom. And then his smile fell when he looked to Murphy's bruised face. "He can't walk," Connor told their new friend.

She nodded. "We'll hide him in a laundry cart. You can push him out. I'll walk you out like you're on a chore run through the back. We make it to my car, and we're home free."

Corissa left to get a cart. Connor held Murphy, whispering quietly to him until she returned. She rolled in a cart big enough to hide Murphy in. Together, the two got the wounded twin loaded and carried out her plan. And unlike Connor's, hers went smoothly. Before they knew it, the three were loaded in the car and the twins ducked down low as Corissa drove them from the prison.

They let her drive as Connor inspected Murphy all over for fresh damage. He fussed and fidgeted, over every bruise and every cut and every burn that his brother's body bore. All the while, Murphy mumbled that he was fine and told Connor to stop babying him. And then they both mumbled to each other that they loved each other and the squabbling would start again.

And while the two bickered, somewhere on the long road to freedom, Murphy fell asleep happy in Connor's protective arms, safe and sound.


End file.
